


When We Were Young

by mute90



Series: Sterek Week '18 [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sterek Week 2018, Young Derek Hale, sterekalternate, stiles doesn't like change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:09:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mute90/pseuds/mute90
Summary: The problem with getting parents involved in supernatural shenanigans was that when you stuck a de-aged teenager in front of them, they said, “Well, he can’t just sit around all day. He needs to go back to school.”





	When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sterek Week: alternate canon. 
> 
> When Derek is de-aged, he doesn't turn back quickly and instead remains a teenager long enough that he's enrolled in school with Stiles.

The problem with getting parents involved in supernatural shenanigans was that when you stuck a de-aged teenager in front of them, they said, “Well, he can’t just sit around all day. He needs to go back to school.” Yeah, as if Derek’s single year of missing education was the priority when the guy was biologically rewound.

“Really? Really?!”

“Stiles, we already lost this argument,” said Scott, though he also didn’t take his eyes off the ridiculous sight of Derek Hale carrying a backpack and being shown around by an Honors student. “He’s got papers now.”

From where they were, Stiles could see Derek glance at them and frown. “Right, right. Derek Zales.” He was full of sarcasm as he praised, “Argent was inspired with that one, wasn’t he?”

“It was last minute,” Scott defended.

“He probably thinks this is as ridiculous as we do.”

Scott put a hand on his shoulder. “Just...be nice.”

“I am always nice.”

From across the hall, they heard Derek snort. He turned it into a cough. His student guide looked only a little suspicious. 

“Oh, you don't think I'm nice?” Stiles demanded, talking at Scott but clearly not to him. “Well let me tell you something about yourself, buddy.”

Scott started to drag him away, saying, “Or we could save that for lunch.” Stiles batted at his hand until he let go. Instead, Scott clasped both hands together in prayer. “Stiles, I'm begging you not to make this a thing.”

“A thing? What's a thing?” Stiles widened his eyes to convey his innocence. “You just go save my seat. I'm gonna wait for Cousin Miguel.”

Scott groaned. Then, he tilted his head, narrowed his eyes, and groaned again. 

“Wait, what? What was that?” He looked at Derek and saw him look away quickly. He pointed at him, poked the air like he could poke him in the eye from across the room. “Was that him? What did he say?”

“He said he could handle you.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open in offense. “My father, the Sheriff of this insane town, can't handle me but Baby Derek thinks he can? HA!” The last laugh was loud enough that people turned to look at them. 

Scott put his hands up in surrender. “I'm going to class. Try to be on time.”

Stiles let his backpack drop to the ground beside his feet and leaned back against the lockers with his hands shoved in his pockets. Derek and his guide were no longer moving but standing there talking and smiling. The girl made a circular gesture with her wrist and fingers, and Derek laughed easily. He leaned in when he talked to her and she leaned in when she talked back. Stiles rolled his eyes and then closed them all together. It was peaceful behind his eyelids.

Derek broke into his peace with, “So, are we going to talk about whatever your problem is?”

Stiles gave himself three more seconds before opening his eyes. “Whattup, Teen Wolf,” he said. The hall was clearing as people headed for class, Derek’s guide long gone.

Derek raised his eyebrows. “How many of those names do you have saved up?”

“You’ll know when I start repeating.”

Derek pursed his lips, or puckered them really, and narrowed his eyes. He was standing too close to Stiles, which might have been a threat if Stiles hadn’t had the real Derek and much scarier things looming over him in the past. This Derek was a tiny ball of tiny aggression. He was like the kind of ball you’d roll at a cat so they could bat it back and forth.

“Look, Rewind, I don’t think you should be here. I’ve lost this fight because people like to not listen to me, but I think you should be living in Deaton’s exam room with him performing spell after spell until we get the real Derek back.”

“Me being different doesn’t mean I’m not real,” the guy defended. “I mean what are you going to do if this is permanent? If your real Derek never comes back?” 

Stiles straightened and shoved him back in one move. 

Derek, caught off guard, stumbled before standing firm again. He gave a short laugh filled with disbelief. “You’re gonna start a fight with a werewolf?”

“Why not?” Stiles shoved him again. Derek let himself be pushed backward, hands fisting but expression confused. “Maybe I just want to see what the puppy is made of. You ever think of that?” He shoved again, harder, and Derek somehow managed to look more lost. “Because we got assassins going after every supernatural thing in this town right now. That happens to include maybe ninety percent of what I love. And instead of having the real Derek, the one who who will fight even if he gets knocked on his ass half the time, we’re stuck with the biological clock that quit ticking.”

Derek grabbed him on his next shove, wrapped his hands around Stiles’ biceps and shoved him backward until he hit the lockers and his head bounced. His eyes glowed blue and his grip was hard. “Is this what you want?” he demanded. “Is this what I became? Is this the real Derek?”

Stiles smirked. He let his weight rest against the lockers. “No, this is imitation. Nice try though. It’s pretty close.” Derek’s hands tightened painfully. Stiles would definitely bruise, ten purple fingerprints he’d earned fair and square. Without the use of his arms, he just tilted his chin up defiantly. “Down, boy,” he mocked.

Derek shuddered. He loosened his grip slowly. He let them slip from Stiles’ arms and fall limply at his said. “Scott said you’re not okay with losing people. In fact, he said you go kind of crazy.” He rubbed at his neck and took deep breaths until the blue in his eyes faded. “I gotta admit: I wasn’t expecting this much crazy.”

Stiles glared at Derek in front of him and Scott in his mind. “Oh, me and Scott will talk later.”

Derek looked at the ground and then directly at Stiles, catching his eyes and holding on. “I know I screwed up in the past,” he said. He got quiet and far away for a moment. Stiles gave him his moment, because the Kate and house fire reveal would always be a mess that people circled around like it was dog shit in the parking lot. Derek shook his head and continued, “But I won’t screw up again. This is my pack now. If you know anything about me, or him, you’d know pack is everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Derek growled. “You want me to sign in blood or something? It’s everything. I’d do anything for it. I’d never let it be destroyed or burned down. It’s mine.”

Stiles’ arms hurt, but his shoulders were a little less tense than they were that morning. “You don’t say,” he drawled.

Derek frowned, still looking him in the eye. “Pack is everything for you too, right? I didn’t think of that.”

“You’re kind of slow sometimes, but that’s okay. That’s something big-you and small-you have in common.” He gestured by holding one hand about an inch higher than his head and the other down by his knee.

Derek huffed, but didn’t bother correcting his ridiculous height comparisons. “And you and I got pack in common,” he said. “We’ll do anything to make sure the pack survives this.” He held out a hand to Stiles and, when Stiles stared at it, wiggled the fingers. “Come on. We’re allies until your precious real Derek shows up.”

“Precious,” Stiles scoffed. He took the offered hand. “Fine. Just do me a favor.”

“What is it?” Derek asked, cautiously.

“The next time someone comes after you with the clear intent to try kicking your ass, you have to do something. Growl. Snap your teeth. Threaten to rip their throat out.” He gestured between them and vaguely in the direction he’d been shoving Derek. “Because that was pathetic. I thought you were Cujo and you acted like Fang. I’m not going to trust you to watch our back if you can’t watch your own.”

Derek nodded, again with the puckered lips. “You want me to stick up for myself.”

“Uh.” Stiles jutted his head forward. “Yeah. I know you're Mini-Wolf but you’re still a wolf.”

“I’ll think about it…” He dropped Stiles’ hand and began walking toward class before adding, “Mieczyslaw.”

Stiles gasped and hurried after him. He reached for Derek, but Derek dodged. Instead, he got a hand around Stiles’ wrist and pulled him along, both of them already late for class. “Who told you that name?!” Stiles demanded.

“It’s in your papers,” said Derek, gleefully.

The pain in Stiles’ arms lessened. He looked down to find black lines creeping up Derek’s hand from where it loosely encircled his wrist.


End file.
